Sunday, January 16, 2011

My Threshold Is Not In My Asshole

Swooning over a lobster. Hasn't anybody told you, a lobster is a shellfish pretending to be a crab?

The world is but a field of sunflowers, I am the cigarette. When kids are smiling for photos, they really look like they've stopped breathing. Night is home, with hawks and wolves. Hard is it to love, with sticks and stones. i don't think i'll ever be able to burn away that letter. not in this lifetime.

Sink or swim. Sink and get eaten by sharks. Swim and you swim with sharks. The rat community is made up of people who disregard grace and goodwill, are outright to harm, speak without think, thoughts so irrelevant. Revert is for the rebels who've been stuck in the machines, almost born of them, studying out a path for life, studying nothing. Deviate and dilate. Deviate to keep awake. Dilate like the lion's mane. It is set to run, bodily fluid sips through water laces in panties. Oh my God. It's not sex, it's not sex at all. A flower wilting is the closest you'll ever get to a reckoning of your existence.

I like the sound of things dirty, but can't stay clean for the life of me. I cannot tune the universe. Their instruments are broken, not out of tune. You've called the wrong bloke. 14 days into 2011 and this could be the worst. We can't compare stories. One subject remains, the other is a different entity altogether. My threshold is not in my asshole. Even in shallow water, there is a bait.

It must be nice to be a young and useless teenager.

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